This is Throwback Thursday #168. In these, we look back into the past at ESCONI specifically and Earth Science in general. If you have any contributions, (science, pictures, stories, etc ...), please sent them to [email protected]. Thanks!
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Walcott Quarry of the Burgess Shale showing the Walcott Quarry Shale Member. The white parallel vertical streaks are remnants of drill holes made during excavations in mid-1990s.
Who's up for a summer trip to the Burgess Shale in British Columbia? How about 9 days, with a good amount of the time for collecting the world famous locality? Well, Pat Armstrong and her family did just that in August 1961. Oh, did I mention a stop in South Dakota for Oligocene fossils on the way? Pat and her husband Chuck were accompanied by their daughters Jackie 5 and Becky 3 with their 20 year old babysitter. By the way, Becky is Becky Monroe long time ESCONI member, who has sent us a few contributions for Fossil Friday (Fossil Friday #128 and Fossil Friday #132).
In case you didn't known, the Burgess Shale is a world famous fossil site, located in the Canadian Rockies of British Columbia, Canada. It is known for the exceptional preservation of the soft parts of its fossils, which date to the middle Cambrian about 508 million years ago. The rock formation is black shale. There are multiple outcrops of the formation. The most famous outcrop is near the town of Field in Yoho National Park and Kicking Horse Pass. The site was designated a IUGS (International Union of Geological Sciences) Geological Heritage Site in October 2022.
The Burgess Shale was discovered by palaeontologist Charles Walcott on 30 August 1909,[5] towards the end of the season's fieldwork.[6] He returned in 1910 with his sons, daughter, and wife, establishing a quarry on the flanks of Fossil Ridge. The significance of soft-bodied preservation, and the range of organisms he recognised as new to science, led him to return to the quarry almost every year until 1924. At that point, aged 74, he had amassed over 65,000 specimens. Describing the fossils was a vast task, pursued by Walcott until his death in 1927.[6] Walcott, led by scientific opinion at the time, attempted to categorise all fossils into living taxa, and as a result, the fossils were regarded as little more than curiosities at the time. It was not until 1962 that a first-hand reinvestigation of the fossils was attempted, by Alberto Simonetta. This led scientists to recognise that Walcott had barely scratched the surface of information available in the Burgess Shale, and also made it clear that the organisms did not fit comfortably into modern groups.
Pat and Chuck Armstrong led the Downers Grove Junior Group during the late 1950's and early 1960's. They wrote the book "Trilobites of the Chicago Region", which was published in 1962. It's an interesting book and still very relevant. We'll have more on the book soon. Becky had a few copies to sell at our spring Braceville field trip.
Pat and Chuck enjoyed mountaineering. They climbed mountains all over the world, US, Canada, Europe, and even South America. Here is Pat holding a photo of them on the last mountain they climbed, Stone Mountain in Georgia. The background is white because they were in a blinding snowstorm!
The Armstrongs had quite the adventure... camping, mountain climbing, and fossil collecting! Here's Pat "catching" a waterfall in the Canadian Rockies during the trip.
Of course, they collected fossils as that was allowed at the time.
The full story was published in the ESCONI newsletter in the December 1961 and the January 1962 issues,
BRITISH COLUMBIA IN NINE DAYS by Charles and Patricia Armstrong
If you are a rock hound (and you probably are if you read this magazine) and want to collect some good fossils, and you can spare a week and two week ends (all together, of course) and about $180.00, we have just the place for you---YoHo National Park in British Columbia.
We (my husband, myself, our baby sitter age 20, Jackie age 5, and Becky age 2) left Naperville at 7:30 PM Friday, August 16, 1961. We followed route #14 across Wisconsin and Minnesota switching the driving between the two of us since Sue could not drive. We stopped only about every 200 miles for gas, food, etc., etc. The towns in Minnesota and South Dakota are small and spread out, but you can hit all night gas stations in the St. Charles-Rochester, Minnesota area, at Brookings and Pierre in South Dakota.
We spent some time in the Badlands of South Dakota near Scenic collecting Oligocene bones and turtle shells and got to Rapid City around 1PM Saturday, Aug. 19. We drove a total of 966 miles in less than 20 hours with time to collect fossils as well.
West of Rapid City 12 miles on route 40 lives G. W. (Tony) Meyers, my landlord for the summer. He rents out his garage for a reasonable price, We stocked up on groceries, took a good rest, and left for British Columbia at 7:30 am Sunday, Aug. 20th.
We drove north through the Black Hills, by the geographical center of the United States (minus Alaska and Hawaii), and around the Badlands of North Dakota which were brighter colored but more roundly eroded than those of South Dakota. We saw many antelope in North Dakota and nearly hit two of them that ran under the fence and across the road in front of us.
We angled up across Montana on route 2 and were very dismayed at the empty dust and cactus flats that stretched for nearly 500 miles across that barren state. Aside from the prickly pear, Montana was a desert-- no trees, no water, not even sage brush!
I got out of the car to take a picture of "beautiful" Montana (their state motto is "Everything to do and beauty too") and got sand blasted and blew over. The wind and the dust were terrible! It took me half an hour to get the grit out of my eyes, nose and mouth.
We bought milk, bread, bologna, cheese, candy, fruit, and pop, and ate while we drove cutting out the long waits in restaurants and higher prices. We had a few more close calls with cows on the highway after dark and finally settled down for a snooze between one and four am. Monday morning. Chuck and I and Becky twisted up on the front seat, and Sue and Jackie took the back. We were too lazy to unpack the sleeping bags and roll out along the side of the road, so we cramped up in the car. We had added 805 more miles to our trip.
To quote Homer "A rosy-fingered dawn" shone over the prairie to the east of us and pink and blue mountains greeted us to the west. We had a 5:30 a.m. breakfast with the Indians in the Black Feet Reservation and drove along the edge of the mountains on route 2. We had to wait for a herd of sheep to be counted, but that was the only delay.
Soon we were in Alberta traveling through golden wheat fields with the blue Rockies still visible about 100 miles away. From Calgary we headed west again straight into those beautiful blue, tan and white mountains. The sky was clear blue, the air very warm and so clean smelling.
We entered Banff National Park at 12:15pm, paid only $2.00 for a park sticker good in all Canadian National Parks until March 31, 1963. The roads were excellent, except where resurfacing was in progress (which was almost all the way). But we were taking in the sights anyway and did not mind the slow traffic.
The giant alpine firs pointed green fingers at the blue rock-ladies with their snowy hats and shawls. Blue-green-white water ran rapid through the trees rushing eastward to quench Montana's parched thirst. There was such beauty here!
A yellow wood sign beside the road marked the great Divide--the meeting of the east and the west-the joining of British Columbia with Alberta. We crossed Kicking Horse Pass at elevation 5339 feet.
Whereas the tourists had been thick in the Banff-Lake Louise area, they were very thin in YoHo Park. The small town of Field with its one genera store had little to offer--meat hung on a hook in the un-refrigerated back room, half spoiled tomatoes, very high priced milk and eggs, but since it was the only store for 60 miles we stocked up on supplies. A topographic map of the area (25¢ at the Park Service headquarters) was a great help for our hikes.
The eleven mile drive from Field to our camp ground in YoHo Valley was quite an experience. We saw the meeting of the YoHo and Kicking Horse Rivers. We climbed 200 feet in less than half a mile on a narrow switch- back road, and we were showered by the spray of Takakkaw Fails plunging 1200 feet from the base of the Daily Glacier and Waputik Ice Fields to the valley floor. The roar carried for several miles up and down the valley as did the mist when the wind was right.
We set up our camp at elevation around 5100 feet. By four o'clock we had pitched the tent (a first experience for us all, since only I had had a little experience in girl scouts), unloaded the car, and started a fire in the large wood stove provided in the park shelter, We had come 2113 miles in less than three days, Since white gas was so expensive, 35¢ a tin (16 ounces) or three tins for $1.00, we cooked on the wood stove and went to bed and got up with the sun (8:30 pm to 5:30 am) and never used our gas lantern or Coleman stove. The camping area held about 10 tents each night, and we made several good friends around the wood stove. Wood chopping became Chuck's chore--or way to keep warm of a morning, for he took to it with such relish that we figured there was more to it than met the eye.
We slept lightly the first night lulled by the song of Takakkaw. During the night the wind brought the mist up the valley to our camp and it settled heavily on the tent. Sometime between twelve and two an, we were awakened by a strange "pullonk" to find the cold and wet canvas across our faces. The tent we had borrowed was old and with the weight of the mist on it, the center pole had pushed out through the top of the canvas. Chuck and I got up and reset the pole in the cold and dark (no flashlight either).
When we were squirming back into the sleeping bag, I pulled it up and hit him in the nose. You guessed it a bloody nose! We muffled our laughter under the sleeping bags.
Dawn came and we went through the contortions necessary to remove our pajamas and dress while zipped in a warm sleeping bag. (Hint--insulated underwear works better than pajamas). The green and brown tents were capped with frost looking like miniature snow capped peaks. Chuck chopped wood at once--even though there seemed enough to build a fire-and soon we had hot water and a warm stove. Our milk, etc., were still good (half frozen). Supplies bought for dinner lasted through the night in the outdoor refrigerator in which we lived.
At about 9:30 am, the first sun peeped over the rock and snow high above us and shafts of yellow warmth pierced the frost and cold, and we took off our heavy clothes and donned shorts. The temperature began to climb and so did we.
Leaving Sue and the girls behind, Chuck and I began the 16-mile jaunt to Burgess Pass and back. The trail was easy to follow and climbed from 5000 feet to 6000 feet in the first mile. We switched back and forth 27 times often following the same tall fir to its uppermost needle. Soon we could see the glacier that fed Takakkaw Falls. Numerous footprints along the trail showed the presence of deer and moose although we saw none. At 6000 feet the trail leveled off in beautiful mountain meadow. Indian paintbrush, wild strawberry (in berry yet), twin flower, and many more flowers I did not know greeted our vista. Yet still above towered the blue peaks with their dwindling fir trees and rugged, snowy tops.
We skirted the aqua-marine waters of Summit Lake looking like a cabochon in its frilly-fir-tree mounting, and began climbing again this time along the rocky path that led to timber-line and talus slopes.
As we made our way around Mt. Wapta toward Mt. Field, the valley fell far below. At eye level miles across it were glaciers, waterfalls, and more majestic mountains. Far below the creamy, green waters of Emerald Lake looked like a dish of creamed pea soup. The creamy, milky white of glacial waters had become familiar to us. The trees became shorter and shorter, and the rock barer and barer. Alpine flowers in pin cushion humps with dwarfed stems held my fancy. The wind and coolness increased as we passed timberline and stood full in its force.
We examined the blue-black shale and the thin layered brownish shale for traces of Class Trilobita. On hands and knees we dug in to the loose slopes and scrambled nimbly upward a hundred feet above the pathway. My breath came in quick pants even though I did not feel out of breath. The thinner air had its effect. As the panorama unfolded before us, we were humbled by its vastness. We yelled to the mountain across the valley; our cries were lost in the wind. How insignificant we were among such beauty! We wondered if anyone down at Emerald Lake could see us or hear us some 3700 feet above them.
The talus was sharp and the footing shaky, but still upward we climbed. I came upon a narrow path beaten down in the broken rock and followed it wondering if perhaps it would lead us to Walcott's Quarry. I had over estimated rock hounds. Strange, rounded clumps of dung revealed that we were on a mountain goat trail and not a pathway beaten down by eager fossil seekers!
We walked on and up examining rock after rock and finding mainly Agnostus and a few other types. The shale was exceedingly hard and heavy. It's black interior and grey-brown exterior led us to believe that it contained a good share of iron (it felt like it too!)
We were just below the 8000 foot level, and there the talus slopes ended and shear rock walls extended another 150-200 feet higher to the top of the pass. The mountain peaks themselves were over 9,000 feet high We looked out over the valley and the peaks around. Mt. Stevens towered above them all. But most of all we looked upward. There was a notch in the pass with daylight above it. What a desire we had to drop our fossil and attempt the face of Mt. Field--unyielding before us. Surely from that notch we would be able to see both valleys on either side of the mountain We understood the urge that drives men to conquer mountain peaks, for there is a thrill no mortal can explain that comes from standing at the uninhibited summit of a mighty mountain with everything in view around you!
Chuck loaded up 40-50 pounds of rock in a plastic bucket, and we started down into the valley. As we descended it began to rain, and as we skirted YoHo Valley, a rainbow arched across it, its arc on the level of our path. We were dried and warmed by the sun before we reached our camp.
For a long time I had not been able to decide whether it was more beautiful to stand in a valley and look up at the mountains or to stand on the mountains and look down into the valley. Now I knew! The thrill of breast to breast climbing over the face of a mountain to finally stand in the open and view all around was incomparable to the distant beauty of a mountain from below. From then on, I knew Chuck and I would seek mountain tops.
Being the first ones up at camp held its rewards for on Wednesday and Thursday mornings our water supply froze up. First come first served got the liquid from the pipe burried in the ground, and the rest had to wait until noon before the sun thawed out the upper length of pipe that came on top of the ground from the glacier 100 feet above. On Wednesday, August 23, the five of us set out for a hike to the YoHo Glacier at the head of our valley. It was mostly level walking. Having never been in the mountains before, we all wanted to see the glacier. At Lacey Point Falls, a narrow cascade, Becky grew tired, so she and Chuck (sore from a fall in the talus and unconditioned calf muscles) turned back. Three and a half miles is a pretty good hike for a two year old anyway. Sue, Jackie, and I continued on past waterfalls, lakes, and of course the milky rapids of YoHo River. We munched on wild strawberries to quench our thirst since the glacial water was icy cold and tasted funny.
About seven miles back little Jackie began to tire so we slowed down and finally let her rest while Sue and I ran on to see the glacier. Suddenly, the Alpine forest opened, and there naked and blinding bright lay YoHo Glacier. It's white, blue and grey ice swirled like striped taffy between the mountain crags, and the trickles from the edge fanned out into the beginnings of the violent YoHo River.
We looked quickly, turned, and ran back to Jackie. At two pm we were back in camp enjoying lunch and telling of the beauties we had seen and Jackie's 14-mile hike.
Chuck and I still longed for those vast beds of abundant fossils we had heard so much about, so in spite of the lateness of the day, we headed out to the town of field and Mt. Stephen.
After a lengthy chat with the park warden (they insist on knowing where you're going--for your own safety, of course), he agreed to let us experienced climbers try the 6 miles up Mt. Stephens and back. It was only four hours till dark, and his best time was 3 hours. We would have to hurry!
You're probably thinking the same thing we were until we looked at our topographic map. What's six miles after 16 miles twice! Well, in three miles we climbed 4000 feet. In the whole three miles, there wasn't more than 20-30 feet of level walking, and most of it was on about 50-60° incline. Each step became a pain in the calf of the leg--each breath seemed to tear the very muscles that worked so hard to supply the oxygen they craved. Again and again I had to stop. The 16 miles of the morning had taken a bit out of me, and my asthmatic lungs were strained to the breaking point. I killed the quart of water in our canteen in no time, and we pushed onward. At the first sign of talus and fossils I dropped out (wish I hadn't) and Chuck went on up over the steep pathway that was next to vertical to the rich fossil beds.
He found The Place--The Fossil Hunter's Dream! I found strength returning to my aching chest and a view of Field and the Kicking Horse river far below. We had been gone only for an hour and 45 minutes. Across the river the saddle of Burgess Pass rested between Mt. Field and Mt. Burgess. Mt. Stephens towered above me--above them--10495 feet above sea level. We hunted for 45 minutes. Chuck came down with tales similar to those of an old prospector who's finally found that lost gold mine. It would be dark soon--no time to see his loot. We loaded up and began the treacherous descent. Down the steep hogback we walked-upper leg muscles bracing and aching with each step. The trail was unbelievable. As wide as 20 Inches at times--and as steep as 70-80 degrees sloping off on each side, it angled sharply down and down into the dark fir forest. The lack of a pack sack-especially a board or frame to support it made packing heavy shale a very difficult feat, but we did it. We went back to the ranger to check in so he wouldn't have to hunt us with a half an hour left before dark. Our climb had taken only 3 hours and we had had 45 minutes of trilobite hunting. There are no sunrises or sunsets in the mountains--only day and night. When the sun goes behind the mountain, the valley is plunged into darkness almost immediately. Driving up YoHo Valley we turned back to see Mt. Stephen pink in the last glow of day with blue shadows from Mt. Field and Burgess cast across its base.
Another cold night, and it was Thursday, August 24, the day of our departure. We decided to take another crack at old Mt. Stephens before leaving to get more of those little beasts. This time the climb took less than an hour (two rest periods included), and even I reached The Place.
As we made our way up the steep talus slope the familiar sound of steel on rock met our ears. Someone was there ahead of us collecting our fossils.
We were dejectedly considering leaving when our friendly hails were returned by equally friendly hails of Jerry Prepp and Mike Moore!
All reservations ceased, and the four of us collected in the true ESCONI fashion for several hours. Then since our time was up and theirs just beginning, we parted ways and started down.
Have you ever carried 90 pounds of heavy, sharp shale on your back in a burlap sack with plenty of slippage? (I carried only 40 pounds), and to add to our problem-down a narrow, steep pathway? It took us over two hours to descend, for our packs dug into our shoulders and backs and constantly had to be reshuffled.
I cannot express how sad we were to have to leave the beloved, blue ladies. More than just the thrill of 4-inch long trilobites held our hearts captive. The challenge of the mountains themselves, of the beau- ties they held, would bring us back again to British Columbia--the next time, perhaps, with rope and pitons as well as rock hammers (Chuck lost his on top of Mt. Stephens, did you see it, Jerry?) and pack sacks and racks (never again the burlap sack on the unprotected back!).
The trip back through Yellowstone and the Elkhorn Mountains is a story in itself that we will tell another day. We arrived back in Naperville early Sunday, August 27th afternoon with 4354 miles on the speedometer since we left. So now we will leave you just where we left a big chunk of our hearts--just below the summit on Mt. Stephen in the famous fossil beds of British Columbia.
-- Charles & Patricia, Armstrong --
P.S. Those who would like to see our 600 slides of the Black Hills and British Columbia are invited over for an official ESCONI show-off night THURSDAY, JANUARY 18th or 25th, 1962, 7:30 PM. R.S.V.P. EL 5-3629
